morningplans

asafigureicouldbeclaydousedingasoline
nomatchestoharden
butliquidtokeepmecooland
smelly.

- - -

long stretches of cement smiles keep egging me along a rat race of cuetips
a track of mirrors
& porcelain laptops.
my teeth
may not be as white as they used to be
but the stains
are of neither
coffee/bile/nicotine
but rather
the holding back
of what only the world needs to see.

valuable

the (wo)man sticking out the corner of the corner of things said/says/& is saying :

do not worry about your life

but i need to furrow myself&brows just to get any reaction at all

what you will eat

i'll ingest whatever's half eaten/a day too stale/ touched the ground more than once

nor about the body

it's only appropriate to crouch anymore, standing tall is but a boast of height and itself

what you will put on

garments of gauze and scab-like tunics find themselves to my chest and legs before i awake

life is more than food

the body is more than clothing

of how much more value are you than the birds?

i wish i was a bird but i'd be timid to fly

and which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature?

forgive me for not acting as a crutch to hold up your massive weight
your bodily odor was once offensive but now i breathe in as if
i
can't and won't ever
get
enough.

mashedturnips&hector's

you know - - -
i could be completely wrong.
no one really knows what
l.-.o.-.v.-.e is .
it's hard to decipher from
so many other
positive things.
i love my life,
the earth,
my family,
my ideas &
feelings themselves.
love
to me
is all those prior
positive feelings
embodied into
one person
in the
present.

swim without arms

a carpet i'd like to lay down on
but manners seem more important than
pleasures
i'll lean my back on some leather
without this shirt i'd be
sticky
condensating among my sitting position
maybe even
becoming one with the humid air.

wolfy cushion

these hands follow tracks, erosions at the curves of some skin

intricate valleys between and around

spine and rib

some curvature to lay down in

and around in.

with landscapes of flesh always expanding

constantly grooving past my peripherals

&

somehow a pronunciation of pockmarks

and pores

become more apparent

taking on the qualities of valleys and

the moistest of craters.

the idea of festering can only now be seen as

waterfalls of reminders

the bottoms with ripples that shape

into smiles

a pool all so welcoming to the fact that

we're dying second

by

fucking

second.

r i g h t i n g

for the past few months
i had been planning this epic love letter whose destination evolved from a girl
to the world
maybe not even evolved
that sounds too cocky
distorted is more fitting
each piece was a small poem of sorts
which was rewritten only once on an individual piece of paper
numbered, signed, and folded.
the plan was to hand out these pieces to strangers in new york city just as a
sort of gift to mankind
a reminder that there is still empathy alive
in the meat we can't eat.
over a two day visit i did manage to give away over fifteen of these pieces to:


- a 30something caribbean man named manly jules

- a smartass college couple who ended up with something not even involved with the project after i let them skim through my notebook

- drunken fratboys who asked if i knew where to obtain some l s d

- a beautiful girl who actually came back to my sitting place to praise me for the poetry

- a hispanic immigrant who thought i was hurt

- a homeless man looking for change and/or porn

- a junkie who half-awake recited his selection outloud and beaming
because i had also agreed to roll him a cigarette

- a brooklyn plaza security guard who had recently found his god and most willingly gave me two
dollars for the meaningful conversation

- an asian man who spoke no english but lent me a cigarette anyway

- a man with his chair against an outside wall who encouraged my spontaneity

&

- a younger black boy who i befriended at a free concert and as a trade let me read his
lifeview which he kept on him at all times as a note on his cellphone

i still had a breakdown at the end and destroyed all the backlogs of the poems
and not to stroke my own ego
but there was some fucking good ones in there

regardless

the experience was appreciable and now i'm a self-proclaimed writer of sorts (ha!)

there was one piece that survived this whole excursion
it crept into my brain as i blushed
the one that was given away to the
attractive woman

sorry manly jules

:

let's make it
easy now

take our time

see the worth of
holding onto
something
and only then
let the static
that seems to fall from the ceiling of things

knock it away again

.